Close Your Eyes and See
by Rainbow Stevie
Summary: Post ep for 4.02: Two scenes with Alex the aftermath of Ben's near execution. AlexKarl, Ben
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If it were up to me, Alex and Karl would still be playing out their adorable little relationship on my screen (*IS FAINTLY BITTER*). Alas, it is not, and therefore I humbly beg thanks and permission from J.J. Abrams, Damon Lindelof, Carlton Cuse, and the ABC network to play with such brilliantly created characters. Further humble commendation towards The Killers for providing title inspiration.

Author's Note: My first Lost fic...as soon as I saw "Confirmed Dead," these missing scenes popped into my head, and despite the fact that it took me several months to finish and clean them up enough for public posting, they simply wouldn't leave me alone.

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**Close Your Eyes and See**

_And sometimes you close your eyes and see the place where you used to live_

– "When You Were Young," The Killers

"It's my mess. I'll clean it up," she hears Locke say, taking the gun from Sawyer like a business transaction. Alex waits for an intervention, but the safety clicks off and only then does she realize that no one is going to step in this time. Looking in disbelief at the circle of impassive faces, pleas falling on deaf ears, it hits Alex in a panic that for the first time in her life she's powerless. Alex struggles against the hushed words meant to calm her like a nervous horse, desperate to get through to them. She's hated him and blamed him and cursed him to exhaustion, but _oh_, she never meant to see him die.

A few minutes later it's over, Ben's talked himself out of the situation like he always does. But her blood runs cold at the memory of _almost, too close_, until she makes herself sick. She pushes away from a mother who's never been more estranged and takes the first opportunity to disappear

Karl finds her crying a little ways into the woods, and his heart goes out to her. She doesn't hear him approach, or maybe she does and just doesn't respond, not even when he calls her name. He goes around in front and crouches down, reaching out to touch her in some small measure of comfort, but she slaps his hand away with sudden vehemence. "You wanted him to die," she spits. He doesn't deny it.

They're staring at each other, he looking heartbroken and her eyes blazing, everything her father's done spinning across her mind. The longer she holds her defiant gaze, the more the corners of her mouth tremble. Her hands are curled into fists, though, so he chooses his words carefully.

"He hurt you, Alex. He _always_ hurts you." And now she's the one not denying, but her eyes are looking lost. Karl inches closer. "He tried to hurt _me_. He tried to have me killed. He wanted me dead." There's no trace of levity in his voice but no anger either, only raw openness and honesty. It's been a long time since he blinked. He's steady and strong and suddenly grown up - that isn't right at all, _she's_ always taken care of _him_ - and a crack shatters illusion.

They reach out at the same time and pull each other into an embrace. Her emotion exhales in a sob and then she's quiet, fingers pressed against the muscles of his back in solid affirmation. He settles his chin over her shoulder and lets the weight rest there. Alex relaxes into him, absent-mindedly staring at the leaves in her line of vision until memories of years past and the time before overwhelm her.

Before the plane crashed, before she knew that women were dying, before Karl became an Enemy of the State where she was concerned. When Ben was only "Dad," a man who did nothing but dote on her almost to indulgence – she remembers bedtime stories and fancy birthday cakes, a white rabbit when she turned five. She hadn't yet discovered the necessity of tempering love with hate, and life wasn't a long blur of warfare with fourteen sides, daily struggles for mere survival, with her father always impossibly at the center of it all.

"Everything's so screwed up," she croaks, and neither of them has a better assessment.

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Part 2/2 shall be forthcoming shortly.


	2. Chapter 2

A/n: Pretty sure I'm slipping an extra night in here. Can we just go with it, for dramatic purposes? Or the scene doesn't work nearly so well.

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By nightfall they've reached the barracks. Alex hasn't spoken to her father in a day and a half, but he'd also noticed her hovering nearby him throughout the remainder of the march, never more than a few yards away. Like a sheepdog, really, with all the same interest in her charge and just as little control over his fate. She'd feigned oblivion to his notice, and today waited only long enough to verify where they were going to keep him before sauntering off hand-in-hand with Karl.

Sometime after midnight, or so he guesses, Alex appears out of the darkness. Tossing a brief glance his way, she approaches his guard of the hour with plastic bucket in hand. He observes the interaction with quiet interest, unable to hear the words, until they reach an apparent agreement and she comes through the door.

Ben raises an eyebrow at the sight of her voluntary approach, but waits for her to make the first move. "Don't talk," she orders, her glower stony. "If you say one word, I'm leaving." He sizes her up appraisingly, but she holds her ground, and he follows her mandate. She sets the bucket at her feet, where water makes a soft slap against its sides, and pulls a piece of wet cloth from its depths. Wringing out the yellow fabric, she applies it to his bloodied cheek, as if by washing away the evidence she can wash away the memory of what caused it.

He watches her intently as she cleans his face, _beautiful child_, seeing her wince involuntarily without realizing it. Her movements are stiff and controlled, but her eyes belie her concern, as does the tongue planted too firmly between her teeth. When his face is clear of everything but bruises she can't fix, collar pulled aside for what ran down his neck, she moves on to his arms and hands. He holds very still.

Alex can feel Ben's eyes on her, see his expression out of the corner of hers, but she refuses to meet them. Not once the whole time as she wipes the blood from every inch of visible skin. She knows her emotions are flitting across her face and she knows that he's thinking of ways to use them. He can't help himself, even for her.

She gathers her things and turns to leave in the same silence, but not before he catches her forearm. Her head snaps back, sharp and precise, and reads in his mute expression more than his words can offer. Somewhere between apology and promise, it's about a parent's love. . .whatever else he conceals, he'll never hide that. She looks into his eyes one second longer, guarded against the emotion there, and shakes herself from his grasp.

Ben's fingers leave a burn on her skin as she lies down next to Karl, still fast asleep. She draws his unresponsive arm around her and stares into the darkness, thinking of white rabbits and lost innocence, and the flaws of a too-human heart.

_~fin~_


End file.
